Past Choices Change the Present
by CaptainLyssa
Summary: Breaks away from Past Becomes Present at the end of Ch5, Tom and B'Elanna are at the beginning of a new but committed relationship. She's quit the Academy. Prof. Chapman makes Lt. Paris an offer he could only dream of. It requires B'Elanna to continue at and graduate from Starfleet Academy. How will they stay together and make their combined dreams come true. Mild adult situations
1. Chapter 1: Offer and Acceptance

**Part One: Offer and Acceptance.**

 **AN** : While this can be read as a stand alone, it might be better to read chapters one to five of Past Becomes Present. It will fill in parts of the backstory that are only touched on in this section of the story. I hope you enjoy.

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"Tell me what happened," B'Elanna asked, her body still slick with sweat after they'd made love. Spooned against her mate, Tom Paris had been everything she'd wanted after the day they'd both experienced. Content to lay in his arms for the moment, she was in the mood to listen. "The full story and you'd better not leave out any of the details."

"When I asked to have your name added onto my Starfleet billet, the administrative assistant gave me this odd look," Tom smiled, disturbing her by lifting his head and kissing the point behind B'Elanna's ear. He found she had very sensitive areas that made Torres shiver. It should disturb him, the dichotomy between her Klingon and Human halves, yet he found her completely alluring. "She asked me to wait a moment and disappeared out the back. Honestly, I thought it might have something to do with our visit to sickbay last night. It seemed Professor Chapman's heard the rumour you'd shacked up with a serving officer and were still on campus. He placed a note on your file, asking to be contacted if anyone came in to officially change your residence."

"He site to site'd you without warning," B'Elanna snickered, proving her demeanour was better and her humour returning after their argument, if it could be called, that a few hours ago.

"I got the run down on your last two years at the Academy," Tom continued recounting his morning. "Equal parts impressive and concerning. It gave me a good idea why you're so driven academically but let that Klingon temper get in the way." A growl from the woman in his arms and Paris grimaced. He needed to tread carefully. Torres hadn't come to terms with her mixed heritage which formed the main reason for quitting the academy. "Professor Chapman thinks a lot of you, B'Elanna. He accused me of forcing you to quit for selfish reasons, describing you as the brightest young Engineer to attend the academy this century. Don't laugh, I'm paraphrasing."

"I guess it didn't take you long to correct his assumptions," she smirked.

"That you're a good engineer," Tom chuckled, levering himself onto an elbow so he could look down at her beautiful face and the expressive eyes that were the window to her soul. "I'd never correct a professor on that score. That I'm selfish, I admit to that. I also know how you'd react if I attempted to make decisions for you. I never want to lose your friendship or trust, B'El. It's to important to me."

Watching, B'Elanna pulled his head towards her lips and brushed her mouth against his. Noticing the passion build, Tom shook his head, trying to ignore her offer. They needed to discuss this. Her future was too important to get distracted.

"He wants you to return to the Academy, B'Elanna," Paris said seriously, his eyes searching her's for understanding. "I told you he tried to bribe me with a posting at R&D here in San Fransisco so we could stay together while you complete your degree. When I indicated we would need to discuss it, I could almost feel is disappointment. He wouldn't let me leave until I promised to get you to finish your degree, anywhere, even on Qo'noS. I really think he's right, you're too talented not to get a formal education."

B'Elanna didn't say a word. It was too much to take in and no one had ever validated her in the way Tom did. It seemed so easy for him, affirming her feelings of honour and respect without trying. Several minutes passed in companionable silence before she asked, "what happened with the Admiral? You said he left three messages. It must have been important."

"I should have gone to see dear old Dad prior to adding you to my billet," Tom stated sarcastically. "I don't think I was out of Chapman's office more than two minutes when he com'ed me. There was so much anger in his tone, I knew I was in trouble. The moment I left Chapman, he must have called Admiral Paris's office and told him everything. I know how that would have gone down with Mr. Micromanage my Children's Career."

"Another site to site," B'Elanna guessed with a snicker, until she noticed Tom's expression. "Was it as bad as you expected?"

"Worse," Tom's tone dripped with irony, although he was attempting to make light of the situation. "I got a dressing down the likes of which I've never heard before. His face was so red; honestly I thought he'd have a heart attack. He'd do that you know, if he felt he could guilt me into taking the posting on Excelsior as second officer. Then he tells me not to disappoint my mother by missing dinner tonight."

"Oh," B'Elanna stated with a deep frown before choosing to change the subject to one just as painful for her. Quickly she summarised the meeting with Sean Kelly and the invitation to catch up with her teammates on the decathlon team this evening. Oddly, she felt nervous telling Tom she'd decided to take Sean's advice which mirrored Professor Chapman's.

"You've decided to sit your finals?" Tom asked, keeping his pleasure contained. He'd come to the conclusion that Starfleet might not be her best option, not until she got her temper under tighter control. However the Engineering world would be all the poorer if B'Elanna Torres didn't complete a formal degree.

"I'm even going to attend the exams for the Starfleet Officer units," B'Elanna couldn't look at him. Asking for help had never come easily, "if you'll tutor me."

"B'Elanna," Tom's tone hinted at disappointment, "I'll do anything for you, especially if it makes you happy."

"Good," she sighed, eyes suddenly shiny. If Paris didn't know better, he say it was those courses were the final straw causing her to quit. As if B'Elanna read his mind, she allowed a single tear of frustration. "I'm failing those units and have a lot to catch up on. I don't know if I'll pass. I guess I could retake them over the summer, if I have too."

"Then you're thinking of returning to the Academy?" Tom didn't know how his voice came out so evenly with the lump in his throat.

"You really want R&D," she finally saw the hope now her own insecurities had been conquered "don't you?"

"Yes," Tom answered, "but not at the cost of your future. It was never my decision to make, B'Elanna."

"It's my decision and I've made it," B'Elanna pulled out of Tom's arms. "Only your going to have to help me get through the required Starfleet courses over the next two years."

Unable to stop the grin, Lt. Paris knew they could do this. The argument his mind and heart experienced this morning when he'd woken to an empty bed suddenly resolved. Thomas Paris knew it wasn't too early to be in love. Holding out his hand, he offered, "deal."

"I know a way we can celebrate," B'Elanna cooed, pulling him towards her. Her temper started a slow burn when he resisted.

"jIH dok," Tom offered easily, holding out his right wrist. She stopped dead, watching and waiting, her breath coming in short, shallow pants. "We have to talk about those words, B'El."

"Tom," she warned, her mood becoming as dark as her chocolate orbs. "Do you have any idea what your offering?"

"I read the doctor's information, B'Elanna," Tom's tone took on a very serous note. "I went back to Sickbay this morning and met a nurse who knew an amazing amount about Klingon mating rituals." Once again taking her chin in his hand when she threatened to look away, he forced her gaze to meet his. "Did you mean it? Have you already taken the oath in your mind and heart?"

"Yes," even with her head held fast, she couldn't look him in the eye.

"Good, because you need to let me answer," he ensured she took his meaning. Releasing her suddenly, B'Elanna watched as Tom took her right hand in his left. Bringing it to his mouth, he kissed her palm gently. Changing his grip, Tom dug her nails into the soft flesh. In a moment of pure bliss, B'Elanna did the same.

"jIH dok," she whispered, watching the rivulets of blood creep down her wrist.

"maj dok," came the response in a guttural growl. Without thinking, Tom brought B'Elanna's hand to his lips and lapped at the drops. His eyes not leaving those of his new mate, Paris very deliberately sniffed and then bit. The action caused B'Elanna's need to spike.

An hours later, they once again lay side by side. This time completely exhausted and unable to move. Sighing deeply, Tom called out, "computer, time?"

"1800 hours," it responded.

"I have to get up," Paris groaned.

"Do you want me to come with you?" B'Elanna asked, shivering internally at the thought of facing Tom's family. Yet with the step they'd just taken, it was expected, even required by her honour. Every lesson in Klingon culture and ceremony forced on her by her mother returned with vengeance. They were one and her mates trials were now hers as well. Yet, facing Kathy and her siblings if they were anything like she imagined truly frightened and angered her. Human fear she could conquer, it was the Klingon anger at the way her mate had been treated that needed satisfying.

"No," Tom gritted his teeth, sitting abruptly and feeling his shoulder ache once again. "What is it with your Klingon women and beating a man's clavicle. This might be the second time today I have to attend sickbay to get it looked at."

"You didn't tell me," B'Elanna stated, her eyes taking on an irritable sheen.

"How would I have come across a nurse so well versed in Klingon customs," Tom lightened the mood by teasing, "if I hadn't? Besides this is the first opportunity I've had to inform you."

"Broken?" B'Elanna requested somewhat mollified. When Tom shook his head, stating just bruised, she chuckled. "It's considered a blessing on the marriage," she teased, "only if it's broken. I can try again, if you like."

"Thanks," he responded mockingly, "but I think you achieved your goal this time. I think," Tom approached the subject carefully, "we should make this marriage Federation Legal, B'El. It will make your next two years at the Academy easier."

"How do you conclude that?" B'Elanna asked, shocked.

"Paris cadets have been attending these hallowed halls for a century. There has been four of them go through the Academy in the last decade. The name carries a lot of weight, B'El. Think about it," Tom didn't mind adding a pleading tone. He knew the power of his families reputation and what unsought but exciting offers would be thrown at Torres during her tenure. She'd have protection unlike anything she'd experienced up until this point.

"Why?" B'Elanna noticed the change in Tom's eye colour. Watching his reactions carefully, she knew there was more to the offer than just formalising the bond they'd already taken.

"Take a shower with me," he offered, finding the energy to climb out of bed but grimacing as his left arm refused to cooperate. "I'll explain."

"Then," B'Elanna pointed at his arm, "I guess it's back to sickbay."

"Lt. Paris," S'harah greeted the young couple. At the end of her duty shift, she'd stayed back on sighting the officer cradling his left arm with a Klingon cadet at his side. They were in more trouble than either realised. Obviously Mr. Paris had headed her words and acted on them. "I guess you broke it this time."

"It would seem so," Tom answered, red seeping into his cheeks. On the other hand, B'Elanna looked rather pleased with herself.

Taking them though to a private room, S'harah quickly attended to the obviously broken bone. Watching the interactions carefully, she had the answer an earlier question. Lt. Paris had taken her advice and committed to the half Klingon, as his injuries implied. The half moon finger nail marks on their right hands attested to the completing of the bonding ritual. It was going to create issues they hadn't considered.

"Cadet Torres," S'harah stated.

"I resigned," B'Elanna stated, crossing her hands over her chest in a protective movement.

"Before or after you took the oath," S'harah asked carefully, well aware of this individuals temper. When the young woman glared and refused to answer, Lt. Paris swore under his breath. It seemed he'd picked up on her meaning.

"Could you give us a minute?" Tom requested.

"I will," S'harah agreed, her gaze travelling to the right palms of the couple before her, "once the dermal regenerator can be dispensed with. I suggest we get rid of those bonding marks."

"What," B'Elanna demanded when the nurse finally left them alone, "was that about?" Staring down at her palm, she felt bereft. With a wave the imprint of her so recent bonding had been removed. Luckily the nurse didn't touch the healing bit mark on her mates cheek. Working herself into a furore, Paris's next words deflated her mood.

"Fraternisation protocols," Tom sighed, hanging his head. He'd not even thought about the issue until the nurse brought it up. "I could lose my commission for coercing a cadet into a relationship and you'd be thrown out of the Academy, or denied readmission."

"I wasn't a cadet when we met," B'Elanna rolled her eyes, unimpressed and understanding she was splitting hairs. She'd only just handed in her exit paperwork a few minutes before literally running into Lt. Paris.

"You were still wearing the uniform," Tom reminded. "Professor Chapman heard the rumour that we were living together within hours of our meeting and put that note in your file. Hell, we even came for contraceptive shots together. It looks planned, B'Elanna."

"The doctors called me Mrs. Paris," B'Elanna recalled, "because he knew my status as an ex-cadet didn't entitle me to medical attention unless I was with you. I resigned my position before I met you, Tom and the records reflect that. You only just got your room assignment after your promotion ceremony. We couldn't have know each other before two days ago. So, we haven't broken any of Starfleet's ridiculous laws. But," thinking, she came up with the only solution possible, "before we go to Professor Chapman and get the decision reversed, we'll have to make this Federation legal. If the academy accepts me back, they do it as a married woman."

"And that doesn't look staged," Tom demanded.

"Who cares," B'Elanna fired back. "Even if we _**had**_ arranged the entire event, we've followed the rules, to the letter."

"You're sure?" Tom questioned. "I don't want you making this decision without thinking it through. There will be consequences, B'El."

"You gave me plenty of reasons to take your name, Paris, while we showered," B'Elanna growled, telling her mate to drop the subject. She'd made her decision and wasn't about to back out now. "I don't have to like it but I can accept it. Besides, by the time I make Lieutenant, I expect you to have Commander in your designation so we don't get mixed up."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom managed to make the words sound brazen and yet offered promises for later tonight.

"If you think I'm not coming with you to your parents," she continued, glaring, "you'll be sleeping on the couch."

"Taking you will only add fuel to the fire, B'El," Tom tried to communicate the significance of this meeting. They'd discussed his dysfunctional family. For once in his life, Paris didn't gloss over the issues. "Dad's beyond angry. We'll be walking into a warp core breach."

"Then it's a good idea to have an engineer at your side," she returned in the same tone. "It's amazing what we can achieve with out of control reactions. Anyway," smirking, B'Elanna knew what they had to do. Requesting the time from the computer, she understood they'd be late to the Paris family dinner if they pulled this off. "We're going," she stated, her glare enough to keep Tom silent, "but we're going on our terms and with our own agenda."

"You're sure," Tom looked and sounded nervous, standing outside his parents house. He was learning that when his mate put her mind to something, it happened, fast. B'Elanna didn't procrastinate or waste time.

"Very," B'Elanna's Klingon side had reasserted itself after the events of the last hour. Managing everything as quickly as possible, they'd arranged a site to site, saving valuable minutes. "Come on, we're already half an hour late."

Taking in a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, Tom stood his full height and requested entry into his childhood home. Heart beating more rapidly with each step down the hall, he felt B'Elanna's hand slip into his. Entwining their fingers, he gave her a hesitant smile. Ready or not, they'd face his family together. The living room door opened to seven people seated in a comfortable looking arrangement. The conversation stopped suddenly as they noticed the new comers.

"I see you've brought your….friend," Kathy offered with a look of pure distain at her brother, before turning her eyes toward her father with a knowing smirk. "Cadet B'Elanna, wasn't it."

"Lt. Comm. Johnston," B'Elanna infused her tone with just the correct amount of animosity and challenge, "I thought it was customary for wives to take there husbands name in this family." Holding out her hand in such a way as to make the gold band so new to her finger shine, the half Klingon extended her hand to the older and somewhat confused generation, " _ **Mrs**_. B'Elanna _**Paris**_ , Sir. It's nice to meet you, Admiral, Mrs. Paris."

That silenced the entire room and Tom Paris couldn't have been prouder of the woman at his side.

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It's taken some research to find the supposed fraternisation laws. I hope you like my solution. The next chapter will feature a discussion between Tom and his mother. You'll just have to wait to see how B'Elanna pulled of this coup de grace.


	2. Chapter 2: Revelations

**Chapter Two : Revelations**

Tom couldn't help himself. He looked down at the tiny woman beside him and grinned proudly. Small by both Klingon and Human standards his wife might be, but what she lacked in height she made up for in both strength and determination.

"Thomas Eugene Paris, do you have any idea what you've done," his mother demanded, refusing to take B'Elanna's offered hand. Glaring at the pair of them, Róisín (pronounced Ro-Sheen) Paris stood from her position on the couch. Anger infused every cell in her body as she shook with rage.

"I married the woman I love," Tom stated easily, his own baby blues narrowing and becoming stormy. This confrontation wasn't going as he'd expected. He knew his father and sisters would be resistant, but keeping the Paris Family image would overrule their objections. Tom had hoped for begrudging acceptance from his mother. It seemed he'd been completely wrong on that score. B'Elanna's fingers still wrapt around his, Tom squeeze them. Returning the gesture with her delicate looking but strong fingers, their glances met and an entire conversation occurred in the blink of an eye. Buoyed by his wife's presence, Lt. Paris stood straight and tall, as if at attention, declaring he needed to be respected. "I've been lucky enough to find the only woman on the planet who could return my feelings and agreed to my proposal," Tom issued the ultimatum, tearing his eyes from B'Elanna and glaring at each individual in turn, daring them to disagree.

Grinning cautiously, B'Elanna knew she had to support both her Klingon mate and Federation husband. "I believe," she stated evenly, focusing her attention on the man at her side, "I knew I loved you from the moment you grovelled at my feet."

That elicited a pleasurable laugh to erupt from Tom's throat. "And I thought I was being chivalrous!" Bringing their entwined digits to his lips, Paris kissed his wife's hand. The action had the added action of displaying his own gold band gracing the third finger of his left hand and the look of unbridled delight shining in his blue orbs.

"My hero," B'Elanna whispered mockingly, her eyes locked with Tom's. The look managed to covey her meaning. She would stand beside him for better or worse.

They'd decided on the most archaic of Human wedding vows with the Academy Chaplin barely an hour ago. S'harah agreed to be their witness, forcing her Haliian husband as a second to make the marriage legal. Between B'Elanna and the nurse, the wedding had been arranged within minutes, especially with S'harah confirming their Klingon bonding really didn't necessitate the Federation formalisation of their mating. Tom and B'Elanna were only going through with it because of Starfleet's Fraternisation code of conduct, so that Lieutenant and soon to be Cadet Paris would meet the Academy's policy for married quarters on the San Francisco campus.

"Owen, is there anything you can do," Róisín turned to her husband with an imploring gaze.

"What God has joined together," Admiral Paris sighed wearily, watching is son and new bride, "let no one put asunder. We married the old fashioned way, Róisín, in a church before the priest and a congregation of our friends and family. We have taught our children to do the same, to take their vowels of marriage and wear a never ending symbol of that commitment in the form of a gold band. Tom has made this choice. My only disappointment is the lack of family at his wedding. It should have been a celebration," Owen sighed once again, this time in disappointment and directed the emotion at the two young people standing before him.

"I didn't know you felt that way, Dad," Tom couldn't hide the shocked expression. For the first time he didn't fidget before his father, nor feel ashamed. This seemed, finally, to be a moment of bonding between father and son that had been twenty years in the making.

"It seems there's a lot we don't know about each other," Owen stated mournfully. "I suppose you will be going to speak with Professor Chapman tomorrow?" Waiting for his only son to nod, and exchange a look of shock with his wife, the Admiral nodded. "I will ensure you get your posting to R&D here in San Francisco. It's your wife's status that will be in question. This looks very staged. Before you object, I'm only telling you how it appears from an official point of view. I also know Cadet Torres resigned before she met you. However quick this romance has been, it's done and we Paris's have to make the best of it."

Finished laying down the law in a quiet tone, Admiral Owen Paris turned the floor to his somewhat stunned wife. He could tell from Róisín's expression she didn't like his dictate. However, her husband had cut through many of her arguments swiftly and efficiently. Her son, for what ever reason, had met and married a Klingon woman in two days. Now she had to learn to live with Thomas's decision.

"Kitchen now," Róisín Paris growled in a tone that would have amused B'Elanna, if she'd known how to take Tom's mother a little better.

"That's our cue to leave," one of Tom's sisters rose from her position by the fire. Deliberately placing her wine glass on the occasional table, she stepped toward B'Elanna. Taking the younger woman's arm and pulling her way from her still stunned brother's protection, she introduced herself. "I'm Elizabeth, the youngest of Tom's sisters. You'll learn, B'Elanna, when Mom uses that tone, its means she wants to talk to one of her children alone. Don't worry, Tom can handle this one his on own."

"Lizzy," Tom huffed. However he let B'Elanna's hand go, indicating she would be safe with this sister.

"I'm Stephany," a second woman stood, dragging the man at her side with her. B'Elanna noticed the couple wore gold bands similar to her own. Even Kathy and her husband displayed the symbol on their fingers. It seemed to be a Paris family tradition. Only now did she understand Tom's insistence on replicating the items, even if it cost him a small fortune.

"You're the new first officer on Galaxy," B'Elanna stated, eyes wide. Obviously Kathy and Steph were not identical. Shorter and stockier than her twin, Stephany had red hair and green eyes, the same as her mother. Of the four Paris offspring, she was the odd one out.

"I see Tom's been talking," Stephany smiled easily, sparing a glance at her mother. A subtle motion indicated Róisín Paris could take her son to the kitchen and have they private talk. Between Elizabeth and Stephany, they'd make her newest daughter comfortable. "This is my husband, Jaboban. We've kept the Paris surname as Trill's don't use them unless they've accepted a symbiont."

"I've never heard of a Trill," B'Elanna offered, shaking the smiling man's hand. Behind her, she felt Tom exit the room with his mother. Feeling be fret, she squared her shoulders and accepted this new challenge. For better or worse, these women were now her family.

"That's not unusual," Jaboban responded easily. "Not many of us leave Trill until we're joined. The Symbiont is the one looking for new experiences. I'm afraid I failed my final testing because I had too much curiosity. Adding a symbiont to the mix, well, it would be more than the galaxy is ready for."

"I think our new sister-in-law needs to meet her nephews and the latest addition to your family," Elizabeth stated with a wide grin. "Thank goodness Tom brought you, B'Elanna. I've been trying to convince these two to peek in on my nephews and new niece but they wouldn't let me. You've given me the perfect excuse as you're not staying here tonight."

"Lizzy," Steph warned, the commander in her voice cautioning her sister. "You know mom, she might insist on Tom and B'Elanna staying until the morning."

"We can't," B'Elanna blurted, before suddenly feeling embarrassed. "We have a meeting at 0800 and we both need to be in uniform."

"You have no excuses left," Elizabeth crowed. "Take me to the little ones, now."

"So long as you only look," Jaboban soothed his wife before glaring at Elizabeth, "and don't wake the boys. You know how they'll react to a new Aunt who's part Klingon. B'Elanna, they're always the only hybrids wherever we go. Knowing they have Aunty B'Elanna to talk to, well, it will be comforting for them. I don't think Tom could have chosen anyone better, for my sake."

Somewhat shocked into speechlessness, B'Elanna found herself surrounded and easily lead up the stairs. Suddenly she didn't feel quite so alone or fearful of the Paris family. They'd accepted Stephany's choice of husband, even though he wasn't human. Obviously they cared for her boys. On the walls beside the staircase, old fashioned framed photographs of the children lined every space. There were other family moments captured in print, some obviously many years old and going back generations. Stopping at each one that displayed Tom, it gave B'Elanna more of an idea of his childhood.

"Next time you come," Lizzy whispered, watching the Klingon woman's eyes drink in the images, "when Tom and mom have settled their differences, ask her about them. She has a story behind each and every one. If you have the time, I'm sure she'll embarrass your husband until his cheeks turn bright red. He got the pale Irish skin and can't hide his embarrassment, no matter how hard my brother tries. Oh, and don't forget to ask mom about the time's he locked himself in his room. Come on, it's at the top of the stairs."

"The oldest one in the middle is Tomez," Steph whispered into B'Elanna's ear as they stood motionless in the door way to Tom's old bedroom. It containing three sleeping boys on a large double bed. The pride in her children obvious in her tone, Steph couldn't help adding, "our eldest is seven and named after your husband." Although the half Trill children appeared human, all three boys displayed their father's pigmented spots on the face. Laying together on the bed, their legs uncovered, the markings were evident running down their necks and on the outside of their lower limbs. "The ones either side are the twins. They run in the family by the way, thank's to Mom's Irish heritage. Tezir and Hamiz are identical and at three they're terrors. My daughter is in our room. When I go beck to work, Jab is going to have his work cut out for him, managing four children. At least Tom will be at school a few hours each day."

"I bet being in charge on the bridge will feel like a haven," Elizabeth stated in a dead pan tone. Her sister rolled her eyes and the women giggled quietly together.

"You'll get a look at Tom's room tomorrow, B'Elanna," Jab offered, watching the young woman's eyes assessing the space. She'd been as fascinated by the posters and models still littering the walls as the pictures on the way up to the second level.

Nodding, B'Elanna Torre…..Paris felt overwhelmed. So far Tom's parents exceeded her expectations in terms of their reaction to the sudden marriage of their only son, yet not to the lack of acceptance she'd predicted due to her hybrid heritage. The sisters, well at least two of them seemed nice enough or were attempting to make her feel part of the family. Still, her thoughts were with her husband. For the moment, with no idea how to get back to the kitchen, B'Elanna felt forced to play along.

"Another few minutes," Jab stated softly, watching her reactions, "and we'll be called to dinner. Don't worry about Tom, he can look after himself. After all, he survived in this household, with three determined sisters and an even stronger mother. I have a feeling you might be even more resilient and tenacious. You'll need to be, to cope with him. Tom's no push over, even if he seems like a pretty even tempered sort. Never mistake his ability to read people, or his intelligence."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen…

"What were you thinking?" Róisín demanded of her only son. Before Tom could open his mouth and answer, his mother was shooting daggers and speaking again. "Two days ago your father and I came to your promotion ceremony. Where was this wife then? Don't tell me you met her and married her in the time since. What's she after, the Paris name and the kudos that accompanies it? You can't be in love this soon."

Watching and listening, Tom smiled. He understood. His mother wasn't really angry, disappointed maybe, but her emotions stemmed from fear. Fear her only son had thrown away his happiness in a moment of lust.

"What do you know of Klingon customs, Mom?" Tom countered in a soft, understanding tone.

Glaring, Róisín's Irish temper got the better of her. In this mood she wouldn't answer, just let her children dig their own grave and then pick them up and help them out when they realised the error of their ways. Green eyes sparking, she dared her son to say his piece.

"B'Elanna comes from a dysfunctional family, more dysfunctional than ours," Tom sighed, taking a seat on one of the stools at the old fashioned breakfast bar that had never been used for that purpose. Róisín Paris insisted her family sit together at the dining room table when they eat. "Her mother's Klingon and father's Human. They separated when she was five and my wife blamed herself for a long time, believing it was her fault. It's screwed B'Elanna up in ways I'm only just uncovering. One of her biggest issues is trust. Not being able to integrate her Human and Klingon sides is another problem. One moment B'El's a ball of fury, the next she's trying to hide her human fear. That human side, it's something she's only just beginning to show me. I'm the luckiest man in the universe, that she's chosen to trust me that much."

"Klingon's mate for life. The night I met my wife, I tried to ignore the attraction. Hell, even Kathy saw it, when she met us at the Bueno Vista at Fisherman's Wharf. I had no intention of sleeping with B'Elanna at the time. She'd just quit the academy and was so lost and alone. I just wanted to be her friend, to give her some breathing room, to make good decisions about her life. B'Elanna chose me, Mom. I didn't realise until we got back to the apartment, and, well it might be best not to go into to much detail. Klingon women have a voracious sexual appetite and it's not unusual for them to take a mate on their first encounter," Tom sighed, thinking he was messing up this explanation.

"Your saying B'Elanna was a virgin," Róisín swore under her breath, something Tom had never heard his mother do. "Have I taught you nothing about consequences, Thomas. No wonder the girl, and she is just a girl, has confused lust for love."

That brought a loud chuckle from Tom. "Believe me, two visits to sickbay, and B'Elanna's all Klingon woman were it matters. She knew exactly what she was doing the first night we made love. For my wife, she swore the Klingon Bonding Oath before we made love. It took me a few days to understand the depth of my own feelings for her. Waking up to an empty bed this morning, I knew, even as I tried to convince myself. I love her, Mom, truly, deeply, madly. It's not lust. Since breaking up with Suzy, I've know I've just been waiting for the right one to come along."

"I know I'm not conforming to your or Dad's ideas, of what you want my life to be. I've always wanted to be a pilot. You and I talked about it, down by the bay when Dad wasn't around. I felt like I could tell you anything, that I could do anything I set my mind too. You always understood, let me make my own mistakes and were there to pick me up when I failed. I never really wanted Starfleet, I did it for Dad and to follow Paris family tradition. My skills and reactions needed for the kind of flying I want to do will be gone in ten or fifteen years. By then my wife will be the head of Starfleet's Propulsion R&D. B'Elanna won't tell you, but she's that good, Mom. It's the reason Professor Chapman is willing to reinstate her as a cadet, despite her appalling conduct record, which comes from her inability to control her Klingon temper. I know, together, we can work through anything."

Still not talking, Tom sighed. "Neither one of us is in a position to think about more than our career right now. We've been to sickbay and taken our shots. I'm going to do what I really want, to fly the type of experimental craft I know my skills as a pilot were meant for. In a few years time, when B'El's ready, we'll think about a future with kids and a white picket fence. By then, I'll probably be ready to resign my commission and become just like Jab, a house husband, with at least as many little Paris's."

"Tom," his mother exclaimed.

Letting out a chuckle, Thomas Paris knew he had his mother. Suddenly he became very serious. "That is," he commented, "if B'Elanna can pass her Officer courses. It's the straw that broke her. She's failing those units and unless I can help her pass, both our futures might be in doubt. We're going to have to leave right after dinner. The next few days, well, I've got to brush up on regulation and then try to get B'El to remember them."

Róisín Paris had stood absolutely still and listened to every word her son uttered. He'd really thought about this step. For once in her life, she didn't need to offer consequences to his rash actions. It seemed Tom had weigh them up and chosen his path. Yet if her son's, and by extension, her new daughter's, dreams were to be realised, they'd need help.

"Owen Paris, get in here," Róisín yelled.

The Admiral had been waiting for the summons. His children might think he ruled this household. They couldn't have been more wrong. Since the day he'd married his hot headed Irish wife forty two years earlier, Róisín held all the power domestically.

Whatever his son had said not only convinced his wife, but had her Irish temper engaged. "B'Elanna's failing her officer units. Fix it. I won't have a Paris fail the academy."

"Yes, Ma'am," the Admiral responded with a salute, only to watch his son fall off the stool with disbelief. It seemed today had been eye opening for more than one Paris gentleman. "Didn't you know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Thomas," Owen teased.

* * *

 **AN** : isn't memory a fallible thing? What we remember as children isn't always the complete truth and yet it can screw us up as adults. Then we grow up and leave home, only to come to the understanding that our parents weren't quite what we remembered, now we have the same responsibilities they did. Before you ask, B'Elanna's turn will come. She'll face her demons. Until then, she has Tom's family to micromanage her career too.


	3. Chapter 3: Day of Reckoning

**Chapter Three: Day of Reckoning**

"When you family wants something done," B'Elanna's foot was tapping as she looked around the guest room at the Paris family home. Her brown eyes were laced with fury and ready for battle. Managing to keep her temper contained was a miracle she wasn't sure her new husband understood or appreciated. She'd only done it for him and Torr…. **_Mrs. B'Elanna Paris_** hoped he valued her monumental effort.

Married barely six hours and it looked like Tom was about to experience his first argument with his, at this point in time, very angry Klingon partner in life. Not that Thomas Eugene Paris disagreed with her completely appropriate and volatile emotions. In fact, she had every right to feel the way she did, especially with the odd behaviour from his family. They'd blindsided him, confusing the man beyond belief. Paris felt as if he'd spent the evening trying to catch up and never quite achieving his goal.

"Honestly, B'El," Tom sighed, closing his eyes and falling onto the bed, "I didn't expect the reactions we got. Dad's compliance and Mom's anger, well, I never saw that coming. I guessed it would have been the other way around. As to my sisters, I don't know what's come over them. Only Kathy's behaving like I thought she would!"

His actions mystified B'Elanna. Her husband seemed washed out, as if this evening had taken more energy from him emotionally than expected. The one sentiment she'd never seen on Tom was defeat. Yet that's exactly what she saw at this very minute.

"What did your mother want to speak about with you?" she demanded, still furious at being cajoled into making so many decisions over the course of three hours. Decisions that should have been between her and her husband, decisions about their combined future that had no business being discussed at the Paris family dinner table.

The sudden but expected call from Róisín Paris brought not only her husband running, but the rest of the family touring the upstairs rooms as well. Tom, picking himself up off the floor watched as his wife, three sisters and their husbands, observed his less than graceful astonishment. Then his mother had the audacity to neatly arrange his life before his entire family. Neither Róisín nor Owen would hear of their newly married son returning to his academy lodgings on their first night together as Husband and Wife.

"I can guess at the accommodations Tom and B'Elanna currently share. You might be a full Lieutenant now, Thomas, but a bedsit will not have enough room. You need an apartment. Owen, tomorrow I want you to arrange married quarters on campus," Róisín declared, eyeing her husband. In this mood, none of the Paris children would interrupt.

"I agree, Love," Owen Paris knew when to give in, and this was one time his wife wouldn't falter in achieving her goal. Yielding gracefully meant marital harmony, something is son obviously had yet to learn from the look of horror on Tom's face. Glancing at his son, the boy looked confused and sought comfort from his own wife. Obviously, his memories of childhood weren't as accurate as he'd thought. Róisín Paris had always ruled the domestic front. Behind her back, Admiral Paris called his wife 'The War Office'. He made enough decisions at work and wanted an uncomplicated home life, preferring his wife to work only in and for the family. "I'll schedule a meeting with Commander Smith, the head of housing and see what I can do."

"Now we have that settled, Tom, B'Elanna, you'll be staying until the weekend, when an official party revealing your nuptials will occur," Róisín announced. "It will have to be this Saturday, 1930 hours, before Katherine and Stephany leave for their postings next week. I'll make a list tonight and want you to send the invitations tomorrow, Owen. Tom, B'Elanna, I will need the names of your friends and family. We don't have much time to plan this wedding reception."

Getting in before either Tom or B'Elanna could object, Admiral Paris faced the young couple, his official commanding tone suddenly in evidence. "It will be the quickest and easiest way to quash any fraternisation issues when Cadet Paris arrives to take her second-year exams, which I believe commence at 0800 hours Monday. I'll speak with Chapman in the morning, ensuring he is the one supporting your readmission, B'Elanna. For obvious reasons, I can't authorise this, it would look like nepotism."

"It's never stopped you before," Tom couldn't help the accusation spilling from his lips.

"There is a certain leeway where one's children are concerned, especially when they attended Starfleet prep," The Admiral was now on full display and would brook no further interruptions. "The way you and your wife have acted makes this marriage looked staged. Some will question the validity of it, as well as the reason. We have to ensure the legality is not in question and B'Elanna is accepted as a Paris before recommencing at the Academy. Should anyone have reservations about your circumnavigation of the fraternisation ruling, both of you will lose your careers and bring disgrace on every Starfleet officer in this room. That is not an option. Do I make myself understood?"

"Aye, Sir," Tom answered, standing almost at attention.

Taking in a deep breath in order to hold back her caustic retort, B'Elanna went to Tom's side and slid her hand into his. Her husband's fingers entwined and gripped her smaller hand as their eyes locked. B'Elanna finally understood the difficulties that arose from having Admiral Paris as a father.

"I did tell you privilege came with the name," Tom exhaled, lifting his torso onto his arms so he could see B'Elanna. As much as he tried to sound up beat, he felt as astonish as his new wife at his father becoming so Starfleet on them. Finally ensconced in the room that would be theirs until new lodgings at the Academy were arranged, they were finally alone to dissect what occurred over the arduous and challenging dinner.

"I got that," B'Elanna seethed. "Was it always this easy for you? Click," she made the motion with her fingers before her face, "and your father took care of everything?"

Exhaling very slowly, Tom tried to keep a lid on his own temper. "What do you mean easy? Every decision in my life has been made for me as tonight demonstrated, B'El. If I'd even tried to rebel, Dad would play the honour in the Paris name card. Trouble is, he's right. There's a price to be paid for being born into this family and I've been paying it all my life."

"I wasn't born into it," B'Elanna spat, finally coming to sit beside her husband. Although not close enough to touch him, or even capture his sent. Right now, she was to uptight and wanted to throw something to relieve the mounting pressure.

"No," Tom sat up straight, his eyes demonstrating his fury as they bore into his wife, "you chose to marry into it which carries the same weight as far as my parents are concerned. I told you it's a double-edged sword when we showered earlier today. With privilege comes responsibility. It's a lesson my mother taught me very early."

B'Elanna witnessed the moment their conversation turned into an epiphany for Tom. Every memory of his mother became crystal clear as he saw her without the rose-coloured glasses for the first time in his life. Róisín Paris ran this family, ordering her husband around to achieve the best outcome for her children.

"I suppose this wedding reception is her first lesson?" B'Elanna stated acidly.

"Be prepared for more," Tom agreed, his anger dissipating and his tone softening. "I think the second will be my father engaging someone to tutor you in Starfleet protocol and procedure so you pass that unit. Then, you'll have your academic units for the summer session and next year handpicked with the right lecturers so your career will take the fastest track to promotion."

 _Maybe Dad's not quite the ogre I've always imagined. After tonight, I can't quite look on his actions in the same light. Mom's been the driving force behind every decision B'El and I have been forced to make_ , Tom found his mind wondering back to his childhood. _It was always Mom who got the best out of me, protecting me from Dad's wrath. I know they argued a lot. Strange I don't remember it being like that with the girls when they attended the Academy._

B'Elanna watched the expression covering Tom's features with a sense of wonderment. Jab's comment about her husband growing up in a house full of strong women began to make sense. It also gave B'Elanna a greater understanding of why the Trill and his family made their home on a generation ship with the objective of returning to his native planet in the future. It seemed Jaboban and Stephany Paris had no intention of letting Róisín direct their children's future.

"The moment I finish at the academy," B'Elanna growled, shifting closer to her husband and placing an arm around his waist in comfort, "we're taking a posting as far away from Earth as possible."

That brought a smile to Tom's lips. "Why do you think I took my last deployment on _Sutherland_. True, it met with Dad's expectations for early promotion, but it was about how much distance I could put between myself and my family."

"You might have wanted R&D in San Francisco," B'Elanna lent in closer, their lips mere centimetres apart, "but I'm beginning to suspect it's way too close to your family."

"I told you, when we first met," Tom's blue eyes held their own mirth and promise, "I needed an excuse not to visit the Admiral at home. Seems I didn't listen very well to my own advice. You know, with the boys sleeping in my old bedroom next door, we're going to have to be quiet."

"Quiet," B'Elanna snickered, turning his face so she could see the faint red welt left over from their afternoon's activities. "Not possible."

"You want to go days without making love?" Tom questioned in a mocking tone.

"Not possible," B'Elanna growled with displeasure this time. "I guess that pillow is going to get a workout."

"You know," Tom whispered in his wife's ear, "I was never aloud past the door way of this room as a kid. I feel kind of special just being in here."

It didn't take long for his wife to make their wedding night feel even more special. The pillow would have to be replaced in the morning before Róisín noticed the bite marks in it. However, it kept their noise level within the bounds of acceptable for a newly married couple.

B'Elanna wasn't prepared for the events of the next morning. At 0600 hours, their bed was set upon as two torpedos landed on the couple's legs. Brown eyes peered over the covers, inquisitive and questioning.

"I told you," Tomez childish voice stated from the door way, "Aunty B'Elanna is half Klingon. Dad told me this morning."

"But how is she our aunty," the child on the left asked.

"The same way as Uncle Don," his twin rolled his eyes. "She married Uncle Tom, see! Their sharing a bed too."

Pointing to the gold band surrounding her third finger, B'Elanna couldn't keep the shock from her expression.

"Right you little scamps," Tom roared, but with pleasure which caused the kids to giggle, "out until Aunty B'Elanna and I can get dressed."

Tomez rolled his eyes, ushering the reluctant younger children from the room. They only acquiesced when their uncle promised to play with them before breakfast, and bring their new aunt.

"Sorry," Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I thought Jab would have warned you last night. The boys are fascinated with anyone who's a fellow hybrid. Just wait until you see them with Gerrick. He calls himself a mixed-up hominoid." At the priceless look on B'Elanna's face, he explained. "Gerrick has Tril, Bajoran, Cardassian and Katarian heritage. His father was a product of the Cardassian work camps on Bajor. A Cardassian warden used a Bajoran slave for her own purposes. When a child resulted, she sent her lover and son on the first transport out of Cardassian territory, knowing her child would become little more than a slave. The vessel was from Trill, one of the first to venture beyond their home world."

"This Trill, he just managed to wander into Cardassian space and then get out again," B'Elanna snorted.

"She," Tom corrected. "I'm not sure how, but the Trill is somehow related to Jab, which is how Elizabeth met Gerrick after Steph married. I don't know about the Katarian part, I guess Trill's are just curious about more than exploring space. The have a habit of marrying outside their species."

"And I thought I was messed up," as much as B'Elanna tried to make the sentence sound like a joke, it came out mournfully. "At least my parents are full breeds."

"Our kids won't be," Tom offered, however there was a note of trepidation in his tone, "when we decide to have them."

B'Elanna's eyes turned on her husband, shock obvious. "My father couldn't handle two Klingons, what makes you think you can?"

"I'm hoping, when we're ready, we'll decide on a whole heap more than that," he replied. "I've always wanted a big family."

"Just how many of these future children do you want?" B'Elanna demanded, still astounded they were even talking about something that might never happen.

"Four seems to be a good number for the Paris's who actually decide to breed. Come on," Tom teased. "If we don't get down stairs soon, Steph and Jab's twins will escape their elder brother and father. You don't want them to arrive before we can replicate uniforms for our day of reckoning."

Two hours in a household filled with nine adults and four children was chaotic to say the least. Lt. Paris managed to keep his three nephews entertained as his mother prepared breakfast. They fought about who would sit next to Uncle Tom, ending up with Tezir on one knee and Hamiz on the other. Tomez shyly took his place between Tom and B'Elanna, slowly gaining the courage to ask about his new Aunt's experiences with the other kids at school.

"You okay?" Tom asked his quite wife as they bid the family goodbye for the day.

"I always thought my issues growing up," B'Elanna answered slowly and carefully, "were because I was the only half Klingon on a level three colony world. It seems location and heritage had nothing to do with my problems. Tomez is just as confused as I was at the same age."

"He's a great kid. Jab's done wonders with his psyche, given he's often the only hybrid child on board," Tom smiled.

"My parents always fought about how to bring me up, Human or Klingon. Those kids, they don't have that issue," B'Elanna stated, her mind obviously in the past.

"Are you wondering what would have happened," Tom spoke softly, "if you'd had that kind of support growing up."

Nodding, B'Elanna became lost in her introspections. Smiling at her side as they entered his father's home office, the Admiral sent his son a questioning look. Tom only offered a shake of his head, which suggested Owen Paris keep his comments to himself.

By 0830 hours, Tom and B'Elanna stood at ease in the back of Admiral Paris's Starfleet office watching the scene play out before them. Seated before a rather large and ornate desk, Professor Chapman, Commander Smith and Admiral Bianca Haskins, the current Commandant of the Academy faced Owen Paris. Not one of the ranking officers bothered to look at the couple, nor acknowledge them. Tom hadn't expected anything else after years of association with three of the individuals in the room. B'Elanna's temper, however, was starting a slow burn. Placing his hand in hers, Tom glanced down at his tiny wife. His eye's pleaded to follow his lead.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Owen started. "Firstly, you all know my four children have attended this institution."

Bianca Haskins smiled, "I seem to recall Cadet Thomas Paris a few years back. A somewhat different student to your three girls, Owen. I believe the young man standing behind us has just made full Lieutenant and congratulations are in order."

"For more than his promotion," Paris smiled. "My son has recently been married. Róisín will have the invitations for a belated reception at our home tomorrow night, 1930 hours."

Turning to witness the young man in question, Bianca frowned. As head of the Academy, she knew the cadet standing beside Lt. Paris, and how much trouble she had been in. Three warnings, Two disciplinary hearings and a suspension before her resignation on Tuesday. Then the facts clicked as she noticed the gold bands and the entwined fingers.

"Just how recent is this marriage?" Admiral Haskins requested, her eyes narrowed.

"Yesterday," Owen stated, his tone even, "here on the academy grounds by the Chaplin. However, I understand a private Klingon Bonding ceremony was undertaken prior to the Federation standard marriage."

"I see," Bianca stated unhappily. "Thank Róisín for the invite and inform her that Herra and I will attend the reception. I gather we are to see another Paris cadet at the Academy in the near future?"

"My aid should have sent my recommendation and the accompanying documentation for B'Elanna's readmission this morning," Professor Chapman spoke for the first time. "I must say, Bianca, I didn't expect Owen's son to change her mind, even with the carrot I dangled. Still, Patterson's been trying to get young Tom onto the R&D team since his graduation. He should attend our discussions shortly, after his morning meeting with Fleet Admiral Nechayev."

"I see," Haskins eyed Paris and Chapman, understanding they'd arranged this between them. "I have little choice in accepting Cadet B'Elanna Paris's application. I gather she will be sitting exams next week?"

"That's the general idea," Owen nodded. "They will, of course, require married quarters on campus, Smith."

"I'm sure something can be arranged," the young man said, keeping his eye's lowered. "I'll have my aid contact you latter to day, Admiral Paris, with the details."

"Very good," Owen acknowledged.

"I want Cadet Paris in the Nova Squadron Engineer's," Chapman stated before Admiral Haskins could escape. "As I remember, Tom and Stephanie Paris were both squadron leaders while at the academy."

"Katherine acted as the medical lead," Owen offered.

"Those were the years we won both the inter-varsity and inter-fleet competitions," Smith tendered. He'd been contacted by both Admiral Paris and Professor Chapman last night and knew his place in this meeting.

"You're suggesting the Paris name is some kind of talisman?" Bianca stated acidly.

"I'm suggesting," Owen glanced up at Tom and B'Elanna to see how they were fairing under this onslaught, before narrowing his gaze at Haskins, "keeping a cadet who has B'Elanna's past conduct record involved in aspects of the academy which her husband can appreciate, will aid the situation. Believe me, both Lt. Paris and his wife are aware of the honour, and expectations that go with the name."

"I understand," finally Admiral Bianca Haskins smiled. It seemed Owen would keep both his son and daughter-in-law on a short leash.

"Cadet Paris's current commitments with the decathlon team will make it difficult to fit in all her academic units, as well as the Nova Squadron practice," Patterson cut in smoothly. "Therefor I suggest she take the officer and physical training units over the coming summer session. I believe she will be able to complete her course work for a degree in propulsion engineering by the end of next year. We can them move onto more advanced research projects. I fully expect this young woman to graduate with at least a master's, if not well on her way to a higher qualification."

"Well," Bianca stood, facing Paris and Chapman and offering them her hand, "as you have things well in hand, I suppose my rubber stamp will appear by the end of the day." Finally turned towards the door and scrutinised the young couple standing there. The Academy Commandant hardened her expression and tone. "Had anyone else acted in this disgraceful way, I would not have allowed readmission, Cadet Paris and you would have been discharged from the service Lieutenant. In marrying into the Paris family B'Elanna, you have big shoes to fill, but it seems they will be in constant motion in the years to come. As to you, Thomas, it seems you've not changed. Trouble should have been your middle name. I expect both of you to make this work. Do I make myself understood!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom snapped to attention.

"Yes, Commandant," B'Elanna echoed a few seconds later.

Continuing to watch the pair, Bianca waited until they both looked away. Only after the door slid closed behind the woman, did Commander Smith make his excuses and leave. Owen Paris and Professor Chapman indicated Tom and B'Elanna should take a seat. Watching his wife's reaction, the younger Paris knew she needed a moment.

"Dad," Tom started, watching his father's face become slightly red. Unsure if it was embarrassment or anger, Tom know where his loyalties lay. "B'Elanna and I need a moment."

Nodding his understanding, Admiral Paris wondered if he'd underestimated his son. It seemed he could read the emotions of the woman beside him. Before the door closed they heard a furious Klingon aske, "where the hell do they get off, arranging my life like that."

"Cadet Paris," was all Tom replied, his tone both mocking and serious. The rest was left to the gentleman's imagination.

"This should be an interesting two years," Owen directed the comment towards Chapman who only allowed an eyebrow to rise.

"Oh," the engineer commented, "I don't think it will be quite the ride the last two have been with that student. I have a feeling young Tom might just settle her emotions and find unique ways to diffuse her constant temper."

"Let us hope so," Owen whispered, "for all our sakes."


	4. Chapter 4: Moving Forward

**AN:** I've been crushing the Caribbean for the last three weeks. I should have done a lot of writing but, well, I haven't. I'm trying to update all my stories, however I've been more in the mood for reading them. Hope you like this addition.

 **Chapter Four: Moving Forward**

"Think of it this way," Ensign Yarra tried to explain, yet again. "Lt. Paris is the Captain…"

B'Elanna couldn't help herself. The snort came out before she could stop it. She'd been trying, honestly attempting to take in the points the young Ensign struggled to impart. For over an hour she'd held in her rising anger and Klingon cruses. Yet, no matter how the woman put it, all this Starfleet protocol just didn't make any sense in the real world. Warp core breaches were simple to fix compared to this!

"Tom might be in the command stream," Cadet Paris responded easily, amused by this latest scenario and the shear impossibility of it, "but he's never going to be a Captain! Trust me, I'm his wife."

"And you're the Chief Engineer. There's a problem and your _husband_ has ordered you to do something you know is dangerous," Ensign Yarra ignored the interruption.

"You're suggesting I've been derelict in my duties and my engines aren't up to code?" B'Elanna accused with venom. The mere suggestion in this supposed situation infuriated the newly reinstated cadet. Even Tom knew her job came first. Engineering wasn't just a vocation for B'Elanna Paris, it was part of her identity. "If I was the Chief Engineer of _**any**_ starship, it would most probably be my husband's flying that caused an issue with my impulse drive or the warp core. Do you have any idea how those flyboys treat their equipment? If it were anything else, I'd probably already be attempting a solution. Engineers don't wait around to be told there's an issue, they just get in and fix it."

"Look," at the end of her patience, Ensign Yarra's tone became icy. "Admiral Paris had engaged _me_ to aid _you_ in passing your officer protocol units. So far, I can understand why your failing with this attitude. Now, let's get back to work. I'll try an easier one. What would your husband do if you were in danger but his ship was counting on him to stay at his post?"

"Why didn't you just ask that question?" B'Elanna demanded, rolling her eyes in pure frustration. "Tom would never hurt anyone deliberately. I know he'd fight his instincts to come and save me. He'd do his duty and let me get on with mine. It's been bred into him. After all, he is a Paris."

"And you wonder why you're failing this unit," Ensign Yarra muttered under her breath as she slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead. "Teaching you is almost impossible."

"I get it," B'Elanna crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the young woman. "I get that the rules are there to protect people, to limit mistakes and keep Starfleet morality. It's just that you wrap it up in ridiculous scenarios that will never happen, or that are so hard to decipher, I don't get what you're really asking. I even appreciate why we have to punctuate our reports in a proscribed way, so everyone understands and the language is uniform. What I don't get is why this has to be made so complicated when it's so easy. You just do your job and put aside any personal considerations. I'm an Engineer, I deal with real world situations and find real world solutions. If I'm chosen for an away mission, it's likely to be for resources that my department requires to keep the engines running, not a first contact with a pre-warp civilisation."

Sitting back, arms becoming tighter and her face compressed into an expression of fury, B'Elanna glared. Sighing once again, Ensign Yarra wondered why she'd been chosen for this torment. Yet, that last statement by Cadet Paris demonstrated that she did understand the essence of regulations, even if she didn't obey them.

"You know what," Yarra stated sardonically, "why don't you just write down what you said in your exam."

"Will I get a pass mark?" B'Elanna asked, somewhat aggressively.

Snorting, Ensign Yarra knew the Admiral wanted this particular cadet to pass with more than an average mark. Like it or not, she had the Paris name to live up too. Before Lucy Yarra could make a sarcastic retort, both were saved by the com badge on B'Elanna's chest chirping.

"Torres," she answered automatically.

"Want to try that again?" Came the cheeky response.

"Tom, please tell me you going to spring me," B'Elanna begged.

"Be careful what you wish for," he chuckled. "Mom asked me to com you when you didn't show up at the fitting for your dress. Your schedules on your PADD."

A sudden muttering of Klingon curses could be heard.

"I'll take that as you got so involved with your protocol lessons, you lost track of time?" Tom Paris couldn't hold back the laugh. "I'm sending the co-ordinates, now. Use the site to site device Dad gave you this morning. And B'Elanna, trust me, just go with whatever my Mother wants."

"Klingon's don't just go along," B'Elanna muttered. "Klingon's also get married in red, not white, and they don't do it twice, even if we have. We mate for life, bangwI', and I don't intend to let anyone forget it."

"BangwI'?" Tom questioned.

"Get used to it, IoDnal," B'Elanna growled, however there was a note of playfulness in her tone, proving her mood had improved just by hearing his voice.

"In that case," Tom teased, looking up the Klingon terms meaning 'lover' and 'husband', "I'm glad I've been band from seeing you in your dress until tomorrow night, especially if it's anything like that red number you wore on our first date. Besides, I wouldn't want to get in the way of the fireworks." Before B'Elanna could add anything, Tom said, "Paris out."

Her temper rising to its previous level, B'Elanna packed up her belongings, taking care to hold in her growing rage. Acknowledging Ensign Yarra's 'see you this afternoon or our second session', she felt in no mood to continue their tuition let alone choose a dress for an unwanted wedding reception tomorrow night. Tom had been correct, Cadet B'Elanna Paris's next two years at Starfleet would be very different from her last two, solely because of her new surname.

Since leaving Admiral Paris's office this morning, every second of her day had been accounted for. Losing her temper after the meeting that allowed her readmittance to the Academy, Tom managed to calm her enough to agree to her new father-in-law's plans. Ensign Yarra then entered the office at the same time as Admiral Patterson. Cadet Paris had been summerly dismissed to her lessons so the gentleman could speak with Lt. Paris about his new position in research and development. Two hours later and Cadet Paris felt beyond ready to throw something. At this point in time she could take on an angry Klingon warrior with her bare hands.

"Paris to Paris," she barked into her com, even though she'd just finished talking to Tom. B'Elanna needed to hear his voice without anyone in range so she could let her anger out.

Even the door slid silently closed behind B'Elanna, adding to her frustrations. What she wouldn't give for an old-fashioned hinge that could be slammed with force. When her com didn't chirp immediately, Cadet Paris suddenly realised how many possible recipients there could be within communications distance. Both Elizabeth and Stephany were at Starfleet Headquarters this morning, beside the Admiral and Tom. Sighing, B'Elanna sucked in a breath so as not to let Klingon curse words enter the airways and whoever's delicate ears might be listening.

"Who is this?" Admiral Paris's tone stated he wasn't impressed.

"I'm sorry, Sir," B'Elanna bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. All she wanted to do was speak with her husband, the one person in this world who would take her temper tantrum in his stride and make her feel better. "I guess I should have said Cadet Paris to Lt. Paris."

"Please remember in future," the Admiral sounded ever so slightly amused rather than angry. "Paris out."

"Cadet Paris to Lt. Paris," B'Elanna tried again.

"B'Elanna," Tom's voice sounded just as diverted as it had a few moments ago. "Just get to the co-ordinates I sent you. I'll be waiting. Paris out."

"How?" B'Elanna demanded when she transported into a change room inside one of San Francisco's most expensive shopping malls. The rest of her words were swept away with the bone melting kiss accompanied by a crushing embrace. When she finally felt her legs were able to support her weight, she pulled away from a grinning Tom Paris. Her glare lost much of its heat with his greeting.

"I told Mom you'd need something to control your temper," he smirked, "after the morning Dad had planned for you. She didn't believe me. Luckily, I was still in Dad's office when she com'ed the Admiral to complain about her new daughter-in-law missing her dress fitting. I managed to arrange this little surprise."

"Does she know you're in here with me, bangwI'?" B'Elanna demanded, however her tone and expression didn't match. Given the opportunity, Cadet Paris wouldn't mind continuing their lesion for another hour or two.

"She does now," Róisín Paris flung the curtain open to reveal her son and his wife in a clinch. Their quiet words in an otherwise silent store gave them away. "Tom, go home, or where ever it is you need to be. Before you argue with me young man, take the same way out as you used to get in. I don't want anyone knowing you were here."

Sighing, Tom removed a small site to site device from his uniform pocket. Leaning in to peck B'Elanna on the lips, he whispered, "don't let her forget this isn't all about appearances. It's supposed to be a celebration of our commitment to each other, bangwI'." With that, he shimmered out of existence.

"B'Elanna, when I tell you to meet me, I mean on time. Now," signalling to the old-fashioned shop assistant, Róisín's demeanour changed suddenly, "Susan will show you several patterns. When you've chosen, we'll use the three-dimensional fitting system to adjust the dress to your measurements."

Her eyes went straight to a style that mirrored the dress Tom seemed to like much. "Can you do with a longer skirt?" B'Elanna requested, knowing it would look good on her frame, met Klingon custom for a bonding gown and Tom would like it. "It has to be in red and to the ankle."

The assistant made the changes easily. Nodding her approval, B'Elanna stood for the imager to take her picture. Susan then combined the two graphics, giving the Cadet an idea of what the gown would look like on her petite frame.

"I've added red heals and jewellery to match," the assistant smiled. "If you like it, well go into the fitting room. I need you to strip to your underwear so the computer will be able to replicate the outfit to your exact measurements."

Róisín Paris smirked as she watched the latest Paris's expression change. It seemed the girl had never been shopping the traditional way. Yet something else Róisín added to her list of accomplishment for her new daughter-in-law. Before B'Elanna graduated from the Academy, she'd make the girl into a true Paris wife.

"I think we need something underneath that gown," Mrs. Paris, the elder commented dryly, "that will amaze the groom when it comes off."

"Do you have a preference for an all-in-one or two pieces," Susan requested of the astounded girl standing beside one of her best customers as if she were asking for the time of day.

Shocked, B'Elanna looked to her mother-in-law. This was just too personal to contemplate. Watching with unbridled amusement, Róisín couldn't contain her joy at the girl's innocence.

"Let me tell you, B'Elanna," the matriarch managed to keep a straight face, "your husbands not going to care, so long as he can take it off when he gets you alone. I suggest the two piece, believe me, all that lace can get very uncomfortable as the night wears on. And I'd go for lower heals. Your feet will be killing you by the end of the reception if you try to match my son in height."


	5. Chapter Five: The Reception

**Chapter Five: The Reception**

 **AN:** Thanks to everyone who has read, fav'd or left a review. I'm trying to finish up this story before getting back to the others. Hopefully I'll have more time to write once I get home. This holiday has been amazing but very tiring.

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"WOW," Tom whistled, watching his wife exit the room they shared at his parent's home. Until this moment, Lt. Paris had been band from seeing, or even speaking with B'Elanna about her dress for this evenings reception. What he saw made his eyes widen and his mind appreciate his wife in a whole new light. "You look beautiful," he managed through a dry throat.

"I gather," B'Elanna managed a shy smile, "you like it."

"That's an understatement," Tom grinned in return, quickly taking her into his arms for a passionate but all too brief kiss.

"I used the dress I wore on our first date as inspiration," B'Elanna stated, looking the man up and down. She'd only seen Tom in Starfleet working attire the day they'd met. In this more formal regalia, her husband appeared to be a professional and consummate line officer. It suited him, more than she'd appreciated in their short acquaintance. It seemed Thomas Paris couldn't escape the destiny his name implied. "Your Mom said you'd be wearing dress uniform tonight."

"I'm surprised she didn't make you wear Cadet Formal," Tom responded with an embarrassed grin. "I'm sure my Mom told you it was a Paris Family tradition, for everyone serving in Starfleet."

Róisín Paris had said a lot more in the hour-long lunch that followed shopping for B'Elanna's gown. Before commissioning the final replication, Mrs. Paris senior had the assistant match the colour of her son's Starfleet's command red regalia to his wife's dress. Standing beside her husband, B'Elanna Paris understood the reason. They complemented each other, more than that, they looked as though they belonged together and the younger woman understood the subtle insinuation. Róisín Paris was making a statement to every person attending tonight's reception. B'Elanna Paris, by virtu of her marriage and acceptance into the Paris clan, was under the family's protection. As if the rights and responsibilities of carrying the that excluded name hadn't been spelt out over the last two days, this event made her new position crystal clear.

Holding out his arm, Tom noticed the mix of trepidation and resolve cross his wife's face. Secretly, he felt the same way, but would never allow anyone to see his trepidation. "Shall we?" he asked with a soothing smile, as if he'd met these people countless times before, which, in truth, he had. That, however, didn't mean Lt. Paris was overly comfortable with the officious, ridged situations.

Taking in a long, slow breath, B'Elanna nodded. Butterflies suddenly inhabited both her stomachs as she placed her hand in the crook of her husband's elbow. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before her Klingon courage returned, conquering the all too human fear. She found it strange, how the dichotomy between her genetic heritage had become so apparent since meeting her husband. It seemed Thomas Eugen Paris brought out a side her B'Elanna she'd always fought and successfully hidden. In his presence, she felt more at peace with her mixed emotions.

"Let's get this over with," she exhaled audibly, before turning a mischievous grin on her husband, "so we can get to the bit where you see what's under this dress."

"Am I going to like it?" Tom teased but there was a note of anxiety, accompanied by hope, in his tone.

Smirking, B'Elanna mocked, "so I've been reliably informed. Then again, your mother suggested it wouldn't stay on very long."

"I'm gaining a whole new appreciation for my mother's wisdom," Tom returned easily, "even if I'm not sure I want her imagining what we do in the 'marriage bed'."

"It's going to take me some time," B'Elanna muttered under her breath as they started down the stairs, "to get use to feeling so, cloistered. I haven't spoken to either of my parents in years. Your mother's intentions might be noble, but the result is almost claustrophobic."

"Once we are in our own apartment," Tom answered just as softly, "we'll only be expected for dinner once a week."

"Will I get my schedule updated by your father?" B'Elanna asked sardonically.

"After the lecture about my career stalling in R&D," Tom returned mockingly. Pausing at the door between the hall and informal living room, Lt. Paris looked down at his partner in life. His clear blue eyes asked if she were ready. "Don't let go. If we get separated, I won't be held responsible for the result. There are bound to be over a hundred people here tonight, most of them known to the Paris family for generations."

"That bad?" B'Elanna questioned. She managed to hold back the shiver of apprehension that threatened to shatter her hard-won resolve to meet this challenge with poise and graciousness.

"Worse," Tom taunted as he moved them towards the opening onto the patio, "Mom might get hold of you and introduce you to every Admiral in the room. Believe me, there will be plenty. On the bright side, coming to their attention can only help your future prospects, especially when you become the head of Starfleet's propulsion research and development."

"I see you have designs on my career already," B'Elanna returned in a similar tone, "and I haven't even graduated."

"Someone in this family has to work while I stay home and look after the kids," Tom added.

"Getting a little ahead of yourself," B'Elanna returned disdainfully, "aren't you, Lieutenant?"

"Living in hope that it'll happen one day," Tom responded with a cheeky grin. "I intend to stay testing state of the art craft for a few years yet."

Grunting, B'Elanna realised their playful banter settled her nervous energy, until she spied the number of people gathered on the back lawn. Róisín requested the couple arrive only after all the guests had gathered under the canopy set up for the occasion. As they approached the clear floor to ceiling door, it slid silently open. Before stepping through, Tom placed his other hand atop his wife's. Leaning in, his kissed her lips lightly, gently, but with such feeling, it drew B'Elanna's startled gaze as he pulled away. In that moment, several holorecorders captured the image of a couple very much in love.

Admiral Paris stood to one side of the aperture and announced, "may I give you Lt. Thomas Paris and his wife, B'Elanna." As the proud words issued forward, the distinguished gentleman lifted his glass in a traditional toast. The crowd gathered before him was liberally littered with Starfleet red with at least three pips on their collar. They echoed the sentiment as expected, even if Admiral Haskin's frowned slightly.

A round of clapping and congratulations then followed. B'Elanna's fingers tightening on Tom's arm, he led her through the crowd, introducing his new bride to one senior Starfleet officer after another. The small talk became a litany of platitudes about how they'd met and fallen hopelessly in love in the space of two days. Few understood the Klingon custom of taking a mate, sometimes on the first sexual encounter, but had heard stories of the life-long bond in that culture. By the third group, most of whom were attired in dress uniform, B'Elanna's head was spinning and her forced smile was starting to droop.

 _I'm never going to remember all of their names_ , she silently fumed. Standing mutely at Tom's side didn't suit her personality. Nor did all the inconsequential small talk that seemed politely pointless. She had little in common with these people and even less to say. Neither B'Elanna nor Tom requested any friends attend tonight, as this reception was solely for demonstration. Róisín Paris orchestrated this presentation of her daughter-in-law to the people that mattered, those that could either harm or help Tom and B'Elanna's future prospects and career paths.

"I don't agree," B'Elanna stated, her expression rapidly changing. She couldn't remember the name of the Captain making the offhanded and offensive comment about his engineering section. He thought his anecdote funny, however the new Mrs. Paris couldn't concur. Her temper reined in for long enough, this was the last straw. "Your Chief Engineer, if their good at their job, knows more about the personality of their warp core than any other officer aboard ship. Maybe you should have listened to her issues more intently before completely dismissing them. I believe ignoring the recommendations of your senior officers in this situation is in direct violation of Starfleet protocol."

"It seems your dedication to pass your protocol units this semester, B'Elanna, is commendable," Admiral Paris interrupted in a jovial tone before tempers could flare. He'd been standing on the outskirts of every group, waiting for his daughter-in-law to display her famous spirit. "It remains to be seen how you will fare in diplomacy."

The crowd gave a chuckle, which diffused all but B'Elanna's rising temper. She felt she'd been made the object of the joke. Tom's fingers laced with hers, bringing their combined hand to his lips. Those ever-expressive eyes warned her, as did the slight shake of his head. Suddenly, B'Elanna Paris understood what it was like for a younger version of her husband to grow up in this house, surrounded by such imposing company. Every aspect of Tom's behaviour had been watched and judged, he'd been constrained. Suddenly, B'Elanna understood why he'd spent so much of his childhood locked in his quiet room with only is own company.

"How did you survive?" B'Elanna hissed into Tom's ear.

"This is the first time," he answered, the sardonic grin hiding the disappointment, "that I've been the centre of attention. Usually I was forced to make an appearance then disappear for the rest of the night."

"I wouldn't mind being sent to your room," B'Elanna responded with rancour.

"That's not going to happen for a few hours yet," he warned with a sardonic smile. However, the expression didn't reach his warp core blue eyes.

Admiral Paris excused them. Moving the party towards Stephany, Tom let out a sigh of relief. It seemed she and Jab had been more accepting of B'Elanna and his rapid marriage than the rest of the family. He knew his wife would be safe in their company while he continued to do the rounds as his mother expected.

"Let me introduce you to Lt. Commander Ellis, the Chief Engineer of _Galaxy_ ," Steph offered, shewing her father and brother away. "I'm sure you'll get along and have a lot to talk about."

Nodding, B'Elanna allowed herself to be separated from Tom. It turned out Zoe Ellis had only just been promoted to her position. Before she knew it, the new Mrs. Paris was happily discussing the latest developments in impulse propulsion methods. Zoe had been a class mate of Steph and Kathy Paris. She'd also been a part of the Nova Squadron while they were all at the Academy together. Intrigued by the challenges the girls remembered while on the team, Mrs. B'Elanna Paris wondered if being forced onto that squad would be the tiresome chore she'd considered.

"Don't look now," Tom silently came to stand by his wife's side. The expression on his features openly displaying his worry. "I see three very large Klingon males approaching. Mom doesn't look happy, which means they probably weren't invited. Please tell me you don't know any Klingons on Earth."

"I don't," B'Elanna stated acidly, turning to see the party of three impressively dressed warriors rapidly advancing. They wore traditional robes over their battle armour. It was, B'Elanna knew, a sign of respect. "Or maybe I do. Remember I told you about the summer I spent on Qo'noS with my mother's family?"

"Vaguely." Tom responded with a deepening frown. The night of their first date, while playing a game of twenty questions, the couple had briefly discussed their history. Initially, B'Elanna had been reluctant to talk about her dysfunctional relationship with her parents. In the five days since, so much had occurred, there had been little time to go into any detail about their childhoods.

"Well, you're about to meet one of them. The smaller one is Wad, my mother's brother's son. He joined the family after completing his studies for the Diplomatic Core when I was on Qo'noS two years ago. I'm not sure who the others are," B'Elanna explained with an unimpressed hiss, "from the look of their robes, they are diplomats."

"Qaleghqa'neS," boomed Wad. _I am honoured to see you again_ , the universal translator interpreted _._

"And I you, Cousin," B'Elanna responded, suddenly recalling her mother's teachings. Although the Khitomer Accord might have been signed between the United Federations of Planets and the Klingon Empire more than seventy years ago, relations were still somewhat uneasy. Earth and Qo'noS held embassies with Ambassadors in residence. Not important enough, nor born into a noble house, B'Elanna's rapid and unusual marriage into the family of a prominent Starfleet Admiral required some acknowledgment. "May I present Wad, Son of Tanas, House of Torg. Wad, my husband, Lt. Thomas Paris, son of Admiral Owen Paris."

Holding out his hand, Tom offered, "nice to meet you."

The man merely looked at the offered limb and made an unimpressed noise deep in his throat. Returning his attention to B'Elanna, the Klingon offered, "Miral, daughter of L'Naan, House of Torg did not have the opportunity to attend your wedding. You mother remains on Qo'noS. I have come to represent our house."

"Thank you," B'Elanna offered, her confusion showing on her face. She knew Róisín Paris had the invitations for tonight's function sent yesterday morning. There would be no way anyone living on Qo'noS could make the journey in that time. Which meant, not only had Róisín invited Miral Torres, she had easily tracked down her mother's whereabouts.

The entry of sub-Ambassador Clag and his entourage caused a stir amongst the mostly Starfleet guests. Noticing the atmosphere take on a decidedly frosty quality, Mrs Róisín Paris signalled to her husband. Both left the friends they had been entertaining and converged on Tom and B'Elanna. As they approached, the crowd quietened and became silent enough for the words exchanged between B'Elanna and Wad to be heard.

"I must know, B'Elanna, daughter of Miral, does your heart beat only for this man?" Wad asked in a growl.

Understanding the question, and its implications only too well, B'Elanna let her expression of displeasure cover her features. "It does," she stated in a loud, clear tone. "We have taken the Klingon Oath and been married by Federation law. Do not question my marriage again, Cousin."

Smiling, Wad seemed pleased with her defensive attitude. Nodding with respect, he completed the mission of his grandmother, L'Naan, matriarch of his house. "And do you swear to join with him and stand with him against all who oppose you?"

"I do," B'Elanna stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom knew that posture and exactly what it meant. His wife's temper was on a very short leash. In fact, B'Elanna was barely holding back her fury at this man questioning her decisions. Strangely it was his mother who provided the distraction required to calm his partner in life.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Róisín Paris smiled disarmingly as she approached the group.

Looking at the interrupting woman as if she were dirt under his boots, Wad demanded, "who are you?"

"I am Róisín Paris," the red-haired woman answered easily, her demeanour at odds with the blaze of ferocity in her green orbs, "wife of Admiral Own Paris and mother of Thomas. I have accepted Miral's daughter as my own. B'Elanna will carry the protection and honour of our House."

"I shall inform Miral, daughter of L'Naan, House of Torg," Wad nodded, seemly approving now he had the answers he required. Without warning, all three Klingons raised the ceremonial batons and hit the newlyweds.

Several Starfleet officers rushed forward, only to be stopped by Róisín's glare. Taking one of the clubs, she joined in the melee. Satisfied, the sub-Ambassador turned and left the Paris family house.

"What was that about," a very confused looking Tom Paris asked into the complete silence that surrounded them.

"Acceptance," his mother answered. "Take B'Elanna into the rose garden. I think you need a few moments alone."

Watching her new mother-in-law, B'Elanna's estimation of the woman increased dramatically. It seemed Róisín Paris understood the basics of Klingon culture. In the space of two minutes, she'd managed to diffuse a tense situation by declaring a member of the Klingon Empire was now under Federation protection and maintain her new daughters honour.

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I hope you enjoyed this look into Tom and B'Elanna's wedding reception. There will be another chapter soon. That talk in the rose garden should be interesting. As should the new Mrs. Paris's protocol lesions.


End file.
